


Guilty Pleasure

by flowerheadfreak



Series: The Gift of Magic [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-11
Updated: 2010-08-11
Packaged: 2017-10-11 01:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/106596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerheadfreak/pseuds/flowerheadfreak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my first work, its a bit cheesy because i added in a stupid pun, you'll be able to recognize it as soon as you see it <br/>anyways, zevran is stares at the warden, but it doesn't get him where he wants</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guilty Pleasure

It was absolutely thrilling to watch her, even in camp.  The way she carried herself was confident, perhaps with a touch of arrogance with how her chin was raised, because she had total power at her fingertips?-because she was fantastically exotic?-She never claimed to be Fereldan, her features are too dark, too different.

 He had no way to know for certain, and as he focused on the gentle sway of her hips while she walked about talking to Sten, Wynne, and Alistair, he thought of their previous conversations.  It amused him, how she had always answered his coy remarks without actually encouraging him, or giving him any hints as to what she felt about his flirtations.  Instead, she replied with humor, taking every chance she could find to entertain herself and the companions she takes with her on her journeys.

 He did know her opinion of him the day they met, which she made no care to hide, when she interrogated him while he lay on the floor bleeding from where she stabbed him repeatedly with the bottom of her rather pointy staff, she only did that when she could no longer cast spells.

But her manner towards him had since changed however, she did not regret sparing his life, and it showed whenever she spoke to him warmly as if they’d known each other since forever.  _Friendship or more?_  he wondered.  It’s quite an intriguing thought, he liked the idea of her feeling excited when he was nearby. He imagined tenderly removing her robes, he being the first to do so.  Her inexperience was obvious, and it aroused him, being raised by whores, this was an entirely new idea.  Suddenly she spoke to him.

“Do you stare you stare at everyone that way?” she asked, he observed the narrowing of her dark, seductive eyes, but grinning manically all the same.  He took this as encouragement.

“Not everyone,” he said boldly, cocking his head slightly to the side, eyeing her as if he were Alistair staring jealously at the last piece of cheese.  Before he could continue, she smiled and said, “Oh I see, just because I’m not as pale and pretty as Morrigan and Leliana, that doesn’t give you the right to look at me like I’m sort of non-hostile ogre.” 

Now this confused him, she showed interest this time, she let herself slip, but instead of continuing with it, she made fun of herself.  Trying to cover something up.  He continued anyway, figuring he would have to find out sooner or later.

“Ha!-Now why would you think such a thing, my lovely Grey Warden?” he purred lowly at the last four words.  “Perhaps I am staring simply because your beauty is so intoxicating.”

She paused after his last statement, taking an inconspicuous second to consider her next response, but since he was searching for a signal, even a small one, he noticed.

_Losing her train of thought?_  He wondered again.

“What is this?  You do know that flattery is not going to get me into your tent any faster, right?” she teased.

“I wouldn’t say that just yet were I you,” Zevran replied, enticingly.  She seemed unwavered by his charms, she knew how to play his game well.  This got Zevran nowhere.

“Alright, just to satisfy your fantasies, Zevran, I’ll only tell you this once,” she started, aiming to tell an inside joke that only she would know. “I’m magically delicious.” And with that she walked away, smothering  a snicker when she saw his puzzled yet intrigued face until she reached her tent.  She could be so childish sometimes.

                                        ~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

The Warden did not know what to make of Zevran, could she truly trust him, as Alistair once asked?  She was more attracted to the assassin than she would dare to admit, but she always managed to push those feelings away.  She enjoyed exchanging banter with him, even more so when she said his name, his whole name, listening to his striking accent...

She stopped herself before she could even begin to entertain thoughts about the other elf who stood not five feet from where she lay in her tent.  _Really?  The assassin?_ she thought to herself, _The one who was gonna kill you, the one who every time you speak to him, he attempts to get you out of your robes and into his bedroll?_

She chuckled to herself.  Of course his charms were irresistible; he was a sleazy bastard…a sleazy bastard that she _had_ to keep around.  But she has to resist, she’d already seen the way Alistair looks at her, it wouldn’t be fair to him, now would it?  Not that she showed interest in him anyway, but she still held onto some unexpressed feelings towards him as well, ones that she wouldn’t take shame in, even if he might’ve been a templar once.

There seemed to be a pattern with templars in her experience, and she hoped that it wouldn’t continue.  She remembered Cullen when he stuttered whenever she deliberately flirted with him.  Ah, but that was only because Jowan had dared her to, she didn’t really like templars, but Alistair was different.

But she’s just an elf, and he’s a prince, pursuing that path would just lead to a dead end.  And Zevran? 

_You can’t be serious because he’s certainly not, not long-term anyway._

She began to ponder about the obvious differences between Alistair and Zevran.  Alistair, sweet and a hopeless romantic, someone who can always make her laugh with his cheesy clean jokes, someone she can be comfortable to be herself with, someone who she can imagine loving and being with, even if she would get odd looks from humans and other elves.

Zevran, who makes her feel alive and excited.  He makes her smile with his rather nasty yet witty remarks, and she loved the game they played, because she knew she would always win, even if he was experienced with women, she was experienced with staying calm, collected, and pure, something she’d been practicing her whole life.  She knew he could be loyal for something worth being loyal to, which could be her since she spared him so he could help in a noble cause, but even with that, he was still her guilty pleasure, a secret she’d never share.

But this was only distracting her.

_I can’t believe you’re thinking about this.  Now’s not the time, you’re in the middle of a war, a Blight, and all you can think about is who can send you spiraling in love with?  Pathetic.  Go get ready for the journey tomorrow, worry if the Sacred Ashes even exist instead.  I don’t have time for your stupid crushes, neither does Ferelden.  Go.  Now._


End file.
